Journeys
by Professor Maka
Summary: Maka Albarn and Soul Evans, recent graduates from Starfleet Academy, have both been assigned to the new flagship Resonance. Expecting to learn the ropes, they get more than they bargained for when the terrorist group Arachnophobia targets the ship on its maiden voyage. As everything falls apart around them, can two rookies really make a difference? A Star Trek AU for Reverb 2016.
1. Reunion

**A/N: So this is reverb 2.5 for 2016, a SoMa Star Trek AU inspired by the adorable art of chaoticlivi on tumblr. You can find it on her page or linked to mine. The cover image is also hers. Thanks go to bendandcurl, therewithasmile, ilarual, and my awesome artist partner livi again for being clutch with the betaing and helping make this so much better.**

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She feels nervous, which is both strange and undeniable. Why should she be nervous? Taking a shuttle craft is nothing new-she had toured the ship months ago as it was being worked on-she's about to be reunited with her closest friend. _That_ part gives her butterflies, though, fluttering wildly in her middle like she's ten again and watching her mama go off on yet another mission, which is just silly. She's a fully vested member of Starfleet now, top of her class out of the academy, assistant to the Chief Tactical Officer of the new fleet flagship _Resonance_. She is Ensign Maka Albarn and she does _not_ get butterflies.

Except today, apparently, she does.

And why, because of Soul? _Soul_ of all people? Soul, who she's known since they started together at the academy years ago? Soul, who she had loathed for months on sheer principle before getting stuck as his partner? Soul, who had managed to worm his way underneath her unrelenting drive to become her closest friend? Soul, who she knows better than she knows herself? Soul, who she has missed like a phantom limb these past months, desperately and achingly?

 _Soul_.

Such questions do nothing to quell the rampant butterflies.

The characteristic clang and jolt of the craft docking pulls Maka from her thoughts. As she collects herself to disembark, she idly wonders how long it will take to see the Concensio. It is a question as silly as her increasing butterflies; Maka might have known that she would see an unmistakable mop of white amidst the crowd, might have predicted the wide grin he quickly, futilely tries to stifle.

She throws herself into his arms before she even knows she means to, protocol be damned, basking in his warmth as he returns the hug.

They both back off a few moments later. Maka coughs awkwardly. "So, um, hi." She offers a little wave and smile.

"Welcome to _Resonance_ ," Soul responds with his own smile, only a little sheepish.

"It's not like I haven't been on the ship before, Soul. We saw it together months ago, remember?"

"Well, yeaaaah, but it wasn't finished then." He rakes a hand through the back of his stark hair. "So I figured it's time for a new tour. Backstage pass and _everything_."

Before she can respond, Maka hears a loud cry of her name. The voice is all too familiar, making her cringe visibly. From the expression of mild disgust that suddenly flashes on Soul's face, she guesses he recognizes the voice as well.

"Makaaaaaa!"

There is a flash of red and she's enveloped in her second hug that day, this one far less welcome.

"Captain Albarn, sir," she says stiffly, pushing out of his grasp. "Ensign Maka Albarn, reporting."

His pout is epic, and she shakes her head as he soldiers on. "Is that any way to greet your own Papa?" he whines.

"I thank you for the welcome, Captain. Now, if you'll excuse me, _sir,_ Ensign Evans was about to show me to my quarters."

Grabbing Soul's elbow, she steers him away from the dock and her papa and into the adjoining hallway, leaving the tall First Officer of the Starship _Resonance_ gaping after them like a fish.

She still can't believe her papa pulled rank to get the position, had given up his own command to play second fiddle to Admiral Thane Mortimer just to lord it over her on her first assignment. Maka's blood begins to boil at the thought so she stifles it. She'll seldom be assigned bridge duty at this point and the ship is enormous. She should hardly see him. Hopefully.

In any case, Maka refuses to let him ruin her first day on board, so as they reach the turbolift doors and step inside, she cocks her head towards the Divergent and asks, "So, where to?"

"Uhhh-well-" he scratches the back of his neck. He's grown his hair out since the strict grooming rules of the academy days, so there's hair there now that he ruffles nervously. She likes the new look, likes it a lot. "Your quarters are on deck 42, so we could start there. Pretty sure the things you sent ahead made it, and you probably want to get settled."

"Sounds good," she says, commanding the lift to deck 42 before turning back his way. "I'll just make sure Blair is settled, then we can get something to eat-I'm famished!"

"Commissary is pretty questionable-the staff is still figuring shit out. Might be better sticking to the replicator, unless you want to blow a few credits at the Starscape. Guy named Masters got the contract to run the place and it's pretty damn good." Soul snaps his fingers with a grin. "Actually, what the hell, we'll go to the 'Scape-my treat."

"Soul, you don't have to-"

"Nah, but I want to." There's something in his gaze that positively heats her blood. "It's been too damn long."

"Alright," Maka smiles back. "But only if you let me get the next time."

"When have I ever passed up free food?"

"When it might involve losing a bet to Black Star?"

They both chuckle, memories of bets at the Academy involving their mutual friend Blake "Black Star" Barrett and his bottomless stomach dancing through their heads. But as the laughter dies away, Soul looks thoughtful. "You okay, by the way? I know your dad-"

"I'm fine!" Her voice is too bright. "Just _fine._ " The doors open and she steps out of the lift before he can press. "So? Where to now?"

"Uh." The neck scratch is back. "Follow me. It's down a few hallways."

"So how has the conduit construction gone, anyway?" Maka asks after a minute of awkward silence.

"It's gone." He shrugs. "Not as exciting as advanced tactical training, Miss Junior Tactical Officer." Soul bumps her shoulder with his lightly as they walk.

"But far more important, Mister Chief Conduit Officer," she says with a laugh and a bump back. "So? How's she looking?"

"Honestly?" He's thoughtful, as he always is when it comes to his work. "Good. _Really_ good. The layout is solid, and I made sure the key conduits were reinforced myself. All of the overlay is state of the art. This whole ship is like nothing we've ever seen, conduits included."

"That's what I like to hear!"

"Though Kid would freak if he saw. Good thing he's been assigned to the _Enterprise_ and not _Resonance_. Conduits are solid, yeah, but _symmetrical_? Nah."

"How _is_ Kid?" she asks as they continue moving down a new hall. "I haven't seen him since graduation! I didn't even know he'd been assigned." Thane Mortimer, Jr., better known to the masses as Admiral Mortimer's kid, and to his friends as simply Kid, was a mutual school friend. When they'd met, just as with Soul, Maka had made assumptions based on his parentage she shouldn't have and learned better. Maka had gained a lot of knowledge in the Academy she hadn't even realized she lacked. Not judging based on reputation alone was only a part of that.

"Kid's good. Had dinner with him a few weeks ago just before he left. Like I said, he's on the _Enterprise,_ Junior Science Officer. I'm sure he's driving the Chief nuts, but he's also so meticulous they're lucky to have him. Last I heard, he managed to discover a parasite that was eating at the inner workings of the ship and figure out how to eradicate it. Probably gonna get a promotion over it."

"Huh," Maka says, and though there's a pang of jealousy that he's already done so well, she's also proud of her friend. "Typical Kid-he'll be Captain of his own ship before you know it!"

"Sounds like someone else I know." His smile is small and fond and she doesn't get a chance to respond as he suddenly stops. "Well, this is you."

There's a door, ubiquitous in the hallway full of such doors, with a small placard next to it that reads: M. Albarn.

"Oh, great!" she puts a hand to the small panel next to the door and it wooshes open. "You wanna come in while I-"

"Nah." Soul shakes his head. "Gonna settle a few things. I'll be back in a bit." He walks only a few steps and puts his hand on the panel of the door across from hers; it opens with a rush of air.

Maka can't help it-her eyes go to the placard by the door-S. Evans-and she _gapes_.

"You-across from me- _how_?"

The shit eating grin might be endearing if it weren't at her expense. "Made friends with the Quartermaster. You can thank me later."

The wink shouldn't make her blush but it does. Flustered, she touches the panel to close her own door behind her with a huffed, "Whatever."

Her quarters are as sparse as one might expect on a new starship, but she has brought a few things to make them more homey. There's no time for that yet, though, so she scans the room until she finds the small animal carrier and swipes the top to open it. Blair doesn't emerge at first, though Maka hears a sleepy cat yawn, but she eventually walks out of the cozy pressurized carrier and arches her back in a stretch before rubbing on Maka's pant leg.

"I missed you, too, but it's been less than a day. Now let's get you some food and water so I can get out of here."

Replicating cat kibble, water, and a small bit of salmon by way of apology is the work of a few moments, leaving Maka plenty of time to shower her cat with attention and freshen up. Deciding she'd rather not wear her uniform to a civilian ship's restaurant, she changes into a skirt and sweater and puts her hair down. She even smooths on lip gloss, which feels both silly and necessary because it's _just_ dinner with Soul, like she's had a thousand times before, and yet, it's also _dinner with Soul,_ who she's missed so much she feels sick just thinking about it, who she's sure she has feelings for that run deeper than their friendship even if she's afraid his are less intense. With that line of thought, the flutter in her tummy is back in force.

She quashes the feeling and leaves her quarters to find the man in question waiting there, casually leaning against the wall. Soul has also changed out of uniform, and it's been so long since she's seen him in jeans and a button up that she's almost forgotten how good he looks when he's in less formal attire. Though, in truth, he looks good in anything.

Dinner is nice. The place is decent, as Soul said it would be, with a large window looking down to the Earth, and she enjoys her baked chicken immensely. She enjoys his presence more, though, as he tells her about the mundanity of installing and inspecting the entire conduit system. Maka also shares what she's been up to, her advanced tactical training having encompassed a wide array of skills, everything from hand to hand combat to photon trajectory to micro warfare. Post graduate training is no joke, and she admits it had made their academy classes look like child's play.

"Even Stein's seminars?" he scoffs.

"Okay," she admits. "Maybe not worse than Stein's seminars. Just remember, Stein was a guest lecturer on numerous occasions. So I got all that _and_ Stein."

His laughter is amused and companionable, but her head drifts to a different time and place as he reminisces about their numerous disastrous dates with Kobayashi-Maru.

 _That_ had been after they were friends and partners and she trusted him, but it wasn't always the case, not even close.

Her first day at the Academy, sitting in the orientation room with giddy anticipation, she'd somehow ended up next to him. She recognized him as a Divergent immediately, that odd formerly human race that was negotiating for official admittance into the Federation. They were the result of an old experiment; an ancient, long extinct people stealing a large group of humans away from Earth millennia ago to watch them develop, to track the evolutionary process in an entirely new environment. The experiment had long since ended, but the Divergent-or Concensio as they called themselves-lived on. Mostly, they appeared human, but their hair color ranged from silver to white; their eyes tended towards shades of red, brown, and burgundy; and then their _teeth_ -it was their teeth that were the dead giveaway, sharp, nearly feral. Sitting next to him, she'd worked very hard not to stare at his mouth as she held out her hand and introduced herself as Maka Arakawa.

"Soul Evans," he held out his own hand uncertainly, and her reaction was immediate.

 _That_ was why he looked familiar. "Evans-as in Westilian Evans, the Concensio ambassador, son of one of the Royal Nine of that planet?"

He was shaking his head violently at that, face red. "Noooo-I'm not Wes Evans, I-"

"But you're a relative?"

He was still shaking his head.

"You _have_ to be. There aren't many Divergent on Earth who aren't part of his entourage. Wait-" she frowned, a memory surfacing "-you're his _brother!_ I remember seeing footage of you together last month. No _wonder_ you got in here. Well, I hope-"

She'd cut herself off as the orientation began, sitting primly and stiffly in the chair next to him. Soul tried to talk to her several more times that day, but she wouldn't have it. She had used a false name to get into the Academy on her merits, had refused to take the easy way, and she couldn't stand people like him who used their names to get ahead, people like her papa who had ridden the coattails of his own father and of her mama. She was better than that, and she'd prove it by being better than _him_ , this Divergent who thought he could ride his brother's position into the Academy, by being better than them all.

Maka had been wrong about him, of course, but she hadn't known it then. If it weren't for Stein forcing them together, she likely never would have known it at all. She owes the professor a lot. _A lot._ Maybe they both do.

His voice drags her out of the memory.

"But I think," Soul continues his reminiscence about their experiences tackling the Kobayashi-Maru simulation she's only half heard, "the best part was when you told Dr. Law that the great cheating incident wasn't cheating at all-that it was out of the box thinking and should have been praised at the time, since in retrospect, it exhibited James Kirk's propensity for creative thinking." He offers her a fond smile. "I thought Law's head was going to explode, he turned so red, but you just kept hammering your point."

"Hey, it's the truth, isn't it? Law's a windbag and we both know it. James Kirk was one of the greatest commanders in Starfleet history precisely _because_ he could approach problems unconventionally, could find solutions that didn't fit neatly in the box of protocol, and the cheating incident showed that early. And anyway, Kirk was _right_ ; no-win scenarios are bunk."

"Never said Law isn't full of shit." He puts his head in one palm thoughtfully. "Just always enjoyed watching you make him squirm."

Her laugh is genuine as she shakes her head. "Squirm is a bit of an overstatement, but he really didn't like me much." She smiles widely, adding, "Couldn't find an excuse not to give me an A, though."

"He wouldn't have dared." Soul grins back. "Nobody crosses the Academy combat champion and lives to tell the tale."

They laugh together, and their evening continues like that, just reminiscing until they finally part ways at their doors. Tomorrow, they will tour the ship before it launches in the afternoon. Tomorrow, the rest of their lives will finally begin.

Maka is just glad that they are beginning this leg of their journey together.


	2. Trouble in Paradise

He waits outside her door, hovering in the hallway like some sort of bumpkin who doesn't know his way around a turbolift. It's not true-he knows this ship inside out, upside down, and sideways-but still, Soul stands just before her door, uncertain.

They've made plans to meet for an insider tour this morning since their plans a few days ago had fallen through when she was called to the bridge. They're friends, damn it, good friends, _best friends_ , he shouldn't be nervous, he shouldn't be _anything,_ but they've been apart for months and he's missed her like hell, and every time he looks at her he just wants to overstep his bounds, to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her what she means to him, and that's just fucking stupid. He doesn't have the right and he's pretty sure he never will. They're _friends._ Maka doesn't do the dating thing, thinks relationships are the stuff of distraction and disaster. There's no way he even has a shot, that _anyone_ has a shot, no Muses-be-damned way in hell.

Fuck this. Soul puts his hand to the panel and knows the computer is announcing his name within. An instant later, the door opens and Maka stands there looking as commanding as always in her freshly pressed uniform, hair swept up into a neat twist in the back.

There are times he wishes it didn't suit her quite so well; it's hard to keep himself from staring. It's been a few days since their dinner, since he's seen her more than in passing, and it's nice just to _see_ her. And anyway, he's pretty sure she'd look good to him in rags, so he really shouldn't blame the uniform.

"So," Maka says with a questioning tilt of the chin. "We ready?"

"Wouldn't be standing here if I wasn't," he grumbles. "So if you can manage not to be called to the bridge again, we should be good."

"I think they'll manage." She looks thoughtful, and Soul feels a pang of guilt because he'd meant it as a joke. "Kilik Rung is on duty and he's really good. So we should be fine. They only called me in the other day as a formality to have a tactical officer on the bridge, since Lieutenant Commander Azusa and Ensign Rung hadn't arrived aboard the ship yet."

"I know, Maka, I was kidding. We all have our jobs to do." There's an awkward pause, and he's not used to awkward pauses with her. This time apart, with her training and him involved in final finishes and inspection on the _Resonance_ had been hell. " _Anyway_ , perk up, you're about to get the insider's ship tour from one of the grunts who built her."

Her laughter breaks the odd bit of tension. "Well, then, lead on, Ensign Evans. How can I resist such a ringing endorsement?"

"Awww, and I thought it was my charm and dashing good looks you couldn't resist." Soul was definitely channeling his brother for that one, but Maka just laughed louder.

"Those are a close second, definitely."

He knows she's joking too, but it feels nice, so he holds out his arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's." Maka takes the proffered arm, and the way she smiles at him makes him feel like he's melting.

It wasn't like Soul hadn't known he had strong feelings for her, because he's known that much for a long time now-but he'd always figured those feelings were friendship and that the dreams were just dreams. Their recent separation told him otherwise, and he's pretty sure, after the strange emptiness he experienced in their months apart, that he's imprinted on her.

Which is bad. Very bad. Normally, imprints are mutual. His people are fiercely monogamous and the connections they form with their mates are life long. But Maka isn't Consensio, she can't imprint back, and she's career driven and fiercely independent.

In other words, he's doomed to one sided pining.

Soul figures he's okay with that as long as he still has her friendship. As long as they can still be close.

Not that he'd always wanted her friendship. Not that he'd even wanted anything to do with her early on with that chip on her shoulder so big it was all either of them could see.

Maka had hated him when they first met, absolutely loathed him based only on his heritage, on the family name he so desperately wanted to leave behind. He'd never wanted to be an Evans, just wanted to be _Soul_ , but she didn't see that, not at first.

When they met and she'd snubbed him the moment she heard his name, he had decided that avoidance was the best policy. But as their first days moved into weeks, as they had classes together, avoiding her was difficult.

And then, as they were repeatedly thrown together by Stein, avoidance became impossible. Yet, over time, as he saw her drive, intelligence, and raw aptitude beneath her extreme distaste for him and their forced partnership, he'd felt her pull, had been drawn to her fire like a moth to a flame.

Soul had then changed his resolution. He knew Maka respected ability. He would show her his.

For months, that resolution was one he could not meet, try as he might. No matter how much he outscored her in feats of technical aptitude, Maka refused to see it, saw only her failure and not his skill. Their hours forced together were awkward to downright hostile, her open contempt mixed with his quiet attempts to placate until, eventually, snark leaked out in his frustration.

Stein had insisted their evaluations indicated they would be excellent partners, complementary, well suited. Soul became more and more convinced those evaluations were utterly full of shit.

And then came their culminating project first semester in their field survival class-an actual survival test. Each pair was stranded on a similar liveable but barren moon within the same cluster of planets and with the same scraps of tech and gear.

Their objective was to survive two weeks, or even better, to find a viable way off planet. The "gear" wasn't much. Standard escape pod fare-some dry rations and water, a portable purifier/desalinator, some thermal blankets, a few phasers, and com equipment, along with a miscellany of other items and the destroyed hull of the pod itself. All of that was scattered, the tech broken.

When they were beamed to the moon amidst the staged wreckage, Maka had ignored him, as usual. Tech was never her strong suit beyond programming, so she ignored that as well in favor of trying to build a reasonable shelter using what was left of the pod hull and the landing parachute.

For his part, tech was absolutely his strong suit, the whole reason they'd let him into the damned Academy to begin with. Soul had always loved tinkering with machines. What had begun as his solace when he failed in the legacy of his people, failed to find harmony in his music, eventually became his escape from a world he'd never felt a part of, that had never quite accepted him.

Now it would be his escape from this damned test.

At least a part of him was tempted to do nothing, to fail, to prove Maka right and have their partnership dissolved as incompatible. But in spite of her contempt, Soul admired her and couldn't bring himself to let her down. And of course, it would be a bonus to prove her wrong about him.

He got to work. Even as she had spent her day building a passable shelter, he spent his gathering the remains of the rest of the ship, every scrap of metal, every stray wire. In spite of the oppressive heat-this Muses forsaken moon felt like a damned oven and he'd lost count of the number of times he'd had to wipe stinging sweat from his eyes-Soul managed to get the purifier to work. Water had to come first because they would _need_ it, and fortunately, the purifier only needed a wire replaced to be fixed. He then turned his focus on what was left; his priority was the communications array.

With the shelter done, Maka eventually approached, examining his work. While she was never exactly pleasant to him, she did recognize the need to work together at times to achieve their goals, and the tech would certainly be important in that.

Different components spread out on the dirt before him, Soul was taking apart the pod communicator, trying to figure out what might be wrong. It appeared to be intact, but it wasn't working.

"You should fix the phasers first," she said, standing over him with her hands on her hips, streaked in sweat and the dust of their desolate crash site. "We were warned of possible hostiles, and we need them to make fire or even weld. I could reinforce the shelter if I could weld a few places. This moon might have sandstorms, so we need it to be able to hold up to gale force winds, and I'm not confident it can right now."

It wasn't a bad suggestion-the standard toolkit included in the pod was very basic, and a microwelder was certainly nowhere near what was included. Plus, Maka was actually asking for his expertise here, a rarity.

"Yeah, I can look at them. Give me a minute." Putting the com back together, because getting grime in it wasn't going to help anything, Soul placed it amidst his other finds to put a phaser on a flat piece of wreckage he had salvaged as a sort of work surface.

It only took him a few minutes to take it apart and figure out that the coil was loose. Must have jolted in the crash. He repositioned the coil, then put it back together before giving it a test fire. The whoop Maka gave startled him, but he tried not to show it as he turned to hand it to her; she was beaming, the first genuine smile she had ever turned his way. It made the heat feel even more stifling.

"Get to work on the shelter, then," Soul grumbled, face hot, trying to force down a return smile. "I'll try to get the other one working before I tackle the array."

Her own smile had vanished then into the business demeanor to which he'd grown accustomed, the one she still wears even now when she's focused and determined as she nodded and moved back to the shelter.

And again, Soul had gotten to work, pulling apart the communicator for the second time to try to figure out why it wasn't working. It wasn't immediately apparent since all the parts were in seemingly perfect order, but he finally surmised that it must be the power source. That was going to be a problem given that long distance communications require high levels of energy, which means power crystals, and it wasn't like they packed extras on the pod. If this one was shot-and close inspection revealed a hairline crack that proved it was-then they weren't going to be able to contact a rescue team.

No _wonder_ no one ever got honors on this exam. It was a sham, the possibility of rescue out of reach. Sighing, he'd put the communicator aside and got to work on the second phaser.

By day four, Maka had reinforced the shelter thoroughly, making it as snug and comfortable as a hunk of metal and lightweave could be on a desolate wasteland, Soul had managed to rig the second phaser to allow them to cook, and they were eating the prepared remains of the large wormlike creature that had attacked them just that morning as they sat outside the shelter and watched the stars.

The moon was a true waste, with a sparse populations of largely predatory creatures and no discernible plant life, though they had been able to dig a well and get to water on day two. Having to work so closely together, to watch each other's backs, Maka had softened towards him considerably, though her contempt still came out in fits and starts.

Still, she'd acknowledged how invaluable his tech skills were, and that was definitely an improvement.

As they sat in silence, chewing on their highly questionable meal, Maka suddenly asked, "Why'd you do it anyway?"

An eloquent "Huh?" was all he could manage. He couldn't remember a time she'd spoken to him when it wasn't strictly necessary or to insinuate his incompetence, or just in the past few days, to offer reluctant praise.

"The Academy, I mean. Why did you decide to go?"

Oh. _Oh._

"I don't know," he said, but not wanting to waste a chance to be understood he might never see again, he had quickly amended. "I mean, I _know_ , but it's hard to explain."

"It's not like we don't have time." Soul had heard her laugh before, but never for him until that moment, and he quickly decided how much he liked it.

"Alright," he said, then let out a breath. "The thing is, I've never been-exactly what people at home think I should be. And I've always been good at fixing things and building things and making things work." He paused, gathering his thoughts, and she let him, just listening thoughtfully. "We first made contact with Earth not long before I was born, and so I grew up amidst a flood of Earth things and Earth language and Earth culture and learning the history of your planet. I never fit in, not really, but the Federation and Starfleet were so diverse it seemed like I maybe could fit in there. So when I came of age, my brother was already on Earth as ambassador and I begged him to put in my application."

"So you used your family's influence to get in." Her tone was bitter.

"No- _no_ ," Soul corrected. He'd wanted to be angry, but more than that, what he'd _really_ wanted was for her to understand. "My parents were fucking furious. They forbade me from attending when they found out I'd applied and contacted the Academy council to convince them not to let me in."

"But you're here."

His nod was slow. "Yes. The council was ready to cave, at least that's what my brother told me."

"How does he even know?" Maka was incredulous. Soul merely shrugged.

"He has sources, I guess, I don't know. I never try to guess with Wes. Anyway, they were about to send my rejection when someone stopped them. And convinced them to let me in. And so, here we are."

"Your brother?" It was hesitant.

"Nah, he didn't have that kind of access. Believe it or not, it was Professor Stein. I guess my admissions exam for tech put my aptitude off the rails and Stein convinced them that caving to diplomatic pressure was against Academy code. So they let me in."

"So they let you in- _in spite_ of who you are?"

"Basically."

"Wow." It was one word, loaded with context and inflection.

"Yeah."

They'd finished their meal in silence, and Soul had spent the rest of the night thinking about why he was there to begin with. He was there because Stein and the council hadn't done what was expected. The survival exam was supposed to have a path to rescue, but it didn't. But maybe that was wrong. Maybe that path just wasn't what they expected. Maybe there was something they hadn't considered.

The answer had come to him as he watched her cook their dinner with a phaser on day five, thinking about how much they could use that level of power for the com before realizing, shit, _shit_ , they _could._

Maka had been barely finished cooking the meat when he snatched the phaser from their makeshift stove. "Soul, wha-"

"I can fix the com," he said, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Huh?"

"I can fix the communications array!" he repeated, and her mouth formed into a little "o" of surprise.

"Do it," she said a heartbeat after, wide grin spreading on her face.

And so he did. Except, when he went to turn it on a few hours later after jerry rigging the wrong crystal to the thing, it _still_ didn't work. It _should_ have worked, but it _didn't._

Soul had expected her to blame him or belittle him for the failure, but Maka did neither, just told him it had been a good idea and moved on. But Soul couldn't move on, not yet, not when it should have worked. The com needed a crystal, and the phaser had one. _It should work._

A day later, after Maka killed another worm like creature with the remaining phaser, it had hit him like a bolt of lightning.

The problem was the same as before, just instead of no power, it was not _enough_ power.

As Maka used the phaser to butcher their meal, Soul approached, giddy. "I need that next."

"Why?" she looked puzzled. He never used the phaser.

"For the array."

" _You're going to take it apart_?" Maka was incredulous.

"Yeah, the array needs more power. Don't worry, we'll-"

"No way. _No fucking way_. We need the phaser. If another worm comes and they have to intervene because we can't defend ourselves, we'll fail, _if_ we don't die instead."

Soul frowned. Okay, yes, they needed the phaser, but this was the only way to fix the com. They had to take the risk.

"We've only seen two worms since we got here. We'll be fine."

"Soul, no. It's too big a risk." Maka shook her head violently in denial.

"We could get honors for this. No one's gotten rescued in a decade, not since Stein took over the survival test." Soul needed her to understand. They could do this. They _could._

"I said _no_!" She was standing with her fists clenched.

He let out a deep breath. "Look, Maka," he pleaded. "I could just do it anyway, and I know you'd try to stop me, but I'd just wait until you slept or some shit. But I'm not going to. We're a team, and I'm not going to do it if you really disagree, but I wish you'd trust me. This _will_ work."

She'd chewed on her lower lip then, looking at him, just looking, sucking in deep breaths of her own. He sighed, ready to admit defeat when she said, voice small, "Okay."

"Oh-kay?"

"Yeah. Do it. If it doesn't work, I expect you to haul ass to fix the phaser again, but yeah. Try."

He had tried. It had worked. They had come back and everyone marveled at them being the first team to get rescued, to pass Stein's survival test with honors, in a decade. And after that, _after that_ , Maka wasn't hostile anymore and they became real partners, and then friends, and now-well, still friends, whatever he might want.

Best friends, touring the ship they've just been assigned to together. Best friends who certainly do not cross any other lines as much as at least one of them might want to.

As they near the end of the tour-he's hit the highlights-they stop at a rather unimpressive door. Maka looks skeptically his way, but he just grins back because _he's saved the best for last._

"You've taken me to a storage room." The marking on the door indicates as much.

"I've taken you to a storage room."

"Well, let's go, then." Losing her patience, Maka grabs his hand and tugs him forward, opening the door and pulling him inside. Soul loves the feel of her hand in his, loves how warm it feels as their fingers intertwine. It's become more common over the years for her to simply grab his hand and pull him where she wants to go. He's never once complained about it.

"So, this is the end. Last room," he announces once they're inside.

Maka just breathes, " _Oh._ "

The room is not large, and it's empty for now, shelves and cabinets lining the interior walls. But on the hull wall, there are no shelves, no cabinets, just a large window looking out into space as the stars stream past.

"It's a storage room for the science team, meant to house specimens, only there aren't any yet and this is the secondary room, so there won't be any for a long time. Not sure why they put a window here, but I found the place when I did the conduits and it's become my favorite hang out."

"It's-really nice." Maka looks around and seems to notice the blanket and basket on the floor, because she turns back to him, shaking her head. "Did you-" she motions to the blanket by the window.

"Yeah, thought a picnic would be nice, like we used to do back home." They'd often gone to the beach or the park with their group during downtime, and Maka had always loved it. "Stupid, I know."

"No!" she practically shouts and Soul puts up his hands placatingly. Shit. _Shit._ Clearly, he's overstepped, and she- "What I _mean_ to say is, it's-it's not stupid, Soul, it's sweet. It's really sweet." She's red, intriguingly so, as she drops his hand to sit on the blanket. It's small, all he could find, and he can't really sit with her on it, so he stands, feeling awkward. _Smooth move._

She seems to recognize the problem, because Maka looks over her shoulder at him and says, "You could, uh, squeeze in behind me. If you want?" She's still red, but he's not about to pass up an offer to effectively spoon her, so he lowers himself to sit with his legs around hers. It's intimate, more so as she leans her back against him to look out the window and rests her head on his chest.

For a time, they just sit. His heart is hammering in his chest and Soul wonders if she can feel it, leaned against him as she is. It's not like she hasn't sat close before, but this is different, and she's just so warm and so there and so _her_.

He moves his arms closer around her, less because he means to than because it feels right, and Maka doesn't protest. "This is nice," she finally says. He only hums, afraid to break whatever spell has brought them here and now, so close.

"Reminds me of our survival exam, a little. Watching the stars, I mean."

"This is different," Soul responds before he can stop himself. "I mean," he adds quickly. "We've come a long way since then. A long way together."

"We really have," she agrees, and when her hand clasps his, he doesn't question it, just lets them be. He feels on the brink of something. The words he's longed to say since just after they parted trip on his tongue, the words that could kill his world, but could also see it reborn, like a phoenix risen from ash.

"Maybe we should make a habit of it." The words are clumsy, not at all what he means, not at all clear. But fear is as strong as hope, and the possibility of rejection, of losing a friendship that means everything, is overpowering.

"We should. I really like this."

He can't parse what she means. Does she like this room, like the idea of picnicking here? Or does she like _this,_ being held, being _close_?

Soul wants to know as much as he fears to know and he's gathering his courage. He's not sure he has the strength to leap this chasm, but he he wants to try. Before he can make the attempt, though, the lights are gone and the room is cast in darkness, lit only by faint starlight.

There is a jolt as the ship makes a full stop and both of them bolt upright, scrambling to their feet. Maka nails him in the chin in the process and he hardly notices in the moment of sheer panic because something is very, _very_ wrong.

Always quicker to action, Maka is at the door in an instant trying to work the panel, but the door remains shut. He's at her side just after, can't even find amusement in her groans of frustration before it's his turn to try, but Soul has no better luck. The panel is powered down. Even if he actually had proper tools on him, and he _doesn't_ , if there's no power routed, so he won't be able to get it opened. _Shit._

Maka curses behind him as he's about to give up, and Soul turns to face her. She's tapping the small device pinned to her chest repeatedly in frustration.

"Communicator down?" His tone is desert dry.

"Ugh!" Maka stomps in frustration. "Power down, communications down, too, and we were flying through the neutral zone and now we're at a full stop, _what the hell is going on_?"

"Not sure, but we're not gonna find out here. Let's get out of here and see if we can-"

" _We already tried!_ "

Her frustration is palpable, and in spite of the undeniable desperation Soul feels, there's also a hint of smugness as he says,"We can use the conduits."

"The-conduits?"

"Power conduits are all crawl spaces. I helped install most of them, I ought to know. We take off the access panel and we can use the conduit system to get pretty much anywhere."

"Oh my _god_ , Soul, you're a genius!" Maka throws herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely, then backs away. Even in the faint light, he can tell she's scarlet. "Do it. Let's see if we can find out what the hell is going on."


	3. To the Rescue

The conduits aren't exactly roomy, and if it were anyone else but Soul crawling in front of her with his rear near her face, Maka would be far more uncomfortable, but she finds she doesn't mind his rear so much. It's not like she hasn't eyed it before, nicely shaped as it is. There are worse things than crawling a foot behind it, shadowed as it is in the faint luminescence of the conduit system.

Her head really should be elsewhere, her mind on other things, but this is tedious. They're in a _hurry_ , but there's no hurrying while crawling through such confined quarters.

"Emergency panel's up at the next cross section," Soul speaks back over his shoulder. "Emergency system should tell us what's up. It's meant to retain power unless the ship is completely dead, and it runs independently of the main system. You know how Starfleet is with redundancy, thank fuck."

"Accessing the emergency system would be a start," Maka says, trying to keep her voice even. She knows all about the emergency access panel, which is why she had asked about it, knows what it does and how it works since emergency systems were included in her tactical training. Soul couldn't possibly know that, though, and he sometimes rattles off techno facts when he's nervous. They're both very, _very_ nervous.

They soon come to a small, circular room, slightly taller, slightly wider, with an access panel lit on one of the four curved walls between conduit openings.

"We're here," Soul offers as they crawl to a stop in the room and he sits up straight because he actually can.

"Brilliant deduction, Watson." He makes an indignant face at her quip, but Maka ignores him in favor of crawling to the panel. She has to give her clearance to gain access-many people shipboard wouldn't be able to-and soon she has some basics.

"The main computer is down completely," she relays as she's able to find what she needs. It's ingrained at this point to share status reports with her team. In this case, as it had often been at the Academy, that means him. "Only life support systems are operational, and we're still in the neutral zone like I thought." She scans further, making several inquiries because this situation reminds her of a case they studied in training. If she can verify, she'll have a good idea of what's happening. "Not sure why communications are down. They're designed to run independently, and there's nothing in backups."

"Any idea how the main computer got fried?" Soul asks, and the way he's pressed to her back to read over her shoulder, breath hot on her neck, it's _distracting._

"It's a guess," Maka says as she finds what she's been looking for, main computer log data up until the shutdown. "I mean, it's been decades since something like this happened, but this has the signature of an Arachnophobia attack."

"Arachnophobia?" The wheels are visibly turning in his head as she crawls to one side and turns to face him. "Like the virus that led to the hijacking of the _Antilles_ back in the day?"

"The very same. But the virus was named for the group. They scattered back then, but intelligence has been concerned about a recent resurgence, and if it really _is_ them-we don't have much time. We need to get to core system. I think-I mean, if it _is_ a virus, I might be able to bypass it with a manual boot to backup systems. We covered cyber-counterterrorism in training. Never thought I'd need it, though."

In truth, Maka has a lot of experience with viruses. She was a hell of a hacker in her teenage years, the days when she was angry at Starfleet, blaming them for her parents' disaster of a marriage, the years when her form of rebellion had included hacking their systems, the years before she decided maybe she really did want to be like her Mama.

"Yeah," Soul answers after checking the data himself, looking thoughtful as he scratches the back of his neck. "Hasn't been a virus that could get through AI in decades. _Fuck_."

"You can get me to the core?"

He nods. "Yeah, we can get there with a lot more crawling."

"How long?"

The deep breath he exhales is telling. "I mean, how fast can you crawl? Thirty minutes probably. Maybe."

"Then we're wasting time, let's _go._ "

Soul takes one of the tunnels and they're crawling again, shuffling along as fast as they can manage. It's a lot of silence and time to worry, so Maka breaks it, noting, "Someone else must have come to the same conclusion and be working on the problem, too, so hopefully, we won't be needed."

"Hopefully," Soul echoes. Because if they _are_ needed, they very well may be too little too late.

The reality that no one knows the conduit system like Soul, that likely no one else shipboard could navigate it like this does not escape her. Even with others coming to the same conclusion, she and Soul might be the only real hope, but dwelling on that won't help, so she doesn't.

There's no time to _dwell_ in any case as they are suddenly jostled. Once. Twice. Something is happening, probably an attack. _They're_ _running out of time._

They can't go any faster, not really, so they push ahead, desperate. "This is bad," Maka murmurs when they are rocked again.

"No shit," Soul agrees, though it's not malicious, just vented frustration.

"Are we-"

"Almost there? Getting close. Soon, just-" He lets out a breath and doesn't continue. They're both clearly thinking the same thoughts, that it might not matter, and voicing them seems tantamount to creating a self-fulfilling prophecy.

They startle again soon after, but this time it isn't the ship moving but the loud chirp of a communicator. A communicator that shouldn't even be working. It's coming from Soul, not her, and he taps his chest after a moment's hesitation before he continues crawling. "Ensign Evans," he announces.

There's a pause, and then a curt, "Evans, good."

"Who _is_ this? I thought the com was down." Soul sounds cautious because it's always possible someone has hijacked the system, but Maka _knows_ this voice. Ensign Ox Ford. As much as she might have cringed at hearing him drone on in the past in smug superiority, she could almost hug him now. The man is capable, and as Junior Science Officer, he might actually know something.

"This is Ensign Ford. I got the com system working through the emergency system, though I'm not sure what happened there. Status report?"

Soul breathes a relieved sigh at that. Maka knows he hasn't had as much experience with Ox as she has, but he's at least met the man. "We're in the conduit system. Making for the main computer core. Got a plan."

"We?"

"Ensign Albarn is with me," he explains.

"Good. _Very_ good." There's something like hope in his voice. "I take it you're planning a manual reboot, Albarn?"

"Yes," she speaks up. "This looks like Arachnophobia, so it might be our only shot."

"That's the conclusion Rung came to as well. ETA?"

"Five minutes, tops," Soul cuts in.

"Good, we might just have a shot."

"We felt the impact," Maka adds anxiously. She needs all the information to know how to proceed. "Is the ship under attack?"

"Shot at by a small freighter, if the ES is accurate, but there doesn't seem to be real damage. The scattered reports of hostiles is the real trouble. I think we've been boarded."

"Shit," Soul breathes.

"Should we-" Maka begins, but Ox doesn't let her finish.

"Just get to the core-I'm working with Rung on coordinating some forces against the hostiles. Ford out."

In any other situation, she'd be fuming, but Ox is right-the core is the priority. But Maka is a Tactical Officer, and the idea people might be injured or _worse_ when she could be helping doesn't sit well at all.

She reminds herself to keep her eyes on the prize. If this works, fixing the main computer and getting systems back online will also help people. _They have to do this._ The rest can come after.

"We'll be in time," she affirms. Maka knows she's reassuring herself more than anything.

"Yeah," Soul agrees from ahead. "We have to be."

It's only a few minutes later when he stops at a hatch and holds down the lever to open it. "This is us," he offers redundantly. "I'd say ladies first, but there really isn't room." A second later, he's dropping down into an open space that is bright with emergency lighting.

She hears cursing a second later and looks through the opening. His white hair is like a halo in the sudden illumination as Soul sits on his ass where he's fallen, and Maka can't help the giggle that escapes her. "You are _such_ a klutz," she says before dropping down, keeping her feet in a catlike display of nimbleness as she crouches beside him.

"Just remember, you need me to get back out," he grouses.

Her only response is more laughter and a headshake, because the tension is so thick that Maka is desperate to ease it. She stands and makes her way to the system control panel, spotting the lever she needs.

Stepping behind her, Soul gestures to it. "It's that one." She nods because she _knows_ , but Soul _is_ the techie and he's trying to be helpful _._

It's almost absurd that it all comes down the the pull of a lever, but the manual backup was designed to be simple. Maka _pulls._

Having no idea what to expect, she waits, breath bated. Maka has never done this, only knows how to operate the core system as a formality of her training. The result isn't instantaneous. There's no noise, no sudden bootup, no switch to the main lights.

"Shit, it didn't work?" Soul echoes her thoughts.

She's ready to despair when the panel flares to life, followed by the main lights. It worked. _It really worked!_

Maka squeals her excitement as she turns to Soul. He's standing by her side, just as he had through most of their Academy days, and she can't help it, she flings her arms around him and kisses him. Somehow, they did it. _They did it, together!_

The thought that she's overstepped her bounds in her excitement creeps to the front of her thoughts for a moment before she realizes he's kissing her back. Enthusiastically. So enthusiastically. It's nice. It's perfect. His hands are on her hips, drawing her closer, and her hands have found his hair, so soft, and Maka just wants to stay in this moment.

But she can't. _She can't_. There's a loud beep and she knows she has _seconds_.

The reboot has the brought the main systems back up, but it hasn't bypassed the virus automatically like it should have.

Lunging forward, ignoring Soul's protests and questions, her fingers start flying on the panel.

"Do you need me to-" he puts a hand on her shoulder as Maka works. Normally, he's the one who handles this type of thing, but he's not trained to handle cyber terrorism, not like she is, so she shakes off his hand, shakes her head.

The virus is attacking again and she has to isolate it, has to put it in quarantine so it can be deleted. It's clearly embedded so it's an inside job, has to be, and if it were any anyone else standing here, this might be futile, but Maka is good with programming, always had been.

Who knew teenage rebellion would yield such fruit? It's intense. The programming on the virus mimics AI; it's _adaptable._ The virus keeps trying to get around the blocks she's putting up, firewall after firewall, but eventually, Maka manages to isolate the thing, trapping it completely in a remote corner of the system. She's quarantined it in a part of the system full of quintessential nonessentials, a segment of the database on Starfleet history, so she deletes the whole thing and takes satisfaction as the virus goes with it.

It's over. _They've won_. With a whoop of triumph, Maka turns to Soul again. She's beaming because she's just beaten the Arachnophobia virus, and she's with Soul, and systems are back up, and _they had actually kissed._

The urge to kiss him again as he beams back at her is strong, but she realizes she shouldn't, she can't. Getting caught up, not keeping her attention on the system at a crucial moment, it might have cost them everything. Maka has to stay focused. There are possible intruders on the ship and they can help. She's a Tactical Officer; it's her _duty_ to help.

Kissing can wait.

"We should-go," she says, and Maka knows she's red, feels the heat of her flush because his gaze is fire and they've crossed a line and she's pretty sure they both want to cross it again, but _now is not the time._

"Yeah," Soul says, face flashing disappointment. "No wait." He shakes his head. "Shouldn't we stay, in case the system goes down again?"

"It won't because I deleted the virus and we _can't_. Invaders, remember? _They need our help._ Can you get us to weapons?"

His nod is sharp, eyes regaining focus. "Yeah, there's a cache nearby. We take the conduit, avoid hostiles."

"Perfect. Let me just give Ford a status report, then we'll go."

Tapping her com, Maka voices, "Ensign Ford." There's a chirp confirming the command, but no response. "Ensign Ford," she repeats. The dead air tells her that it's not working. Either there's something wrong with Ford, or someone has disabled the com again.

"Crap, com's down again. We should get the weapons and make our way to the bridge, tell command what we know assuming they're holding position. We can help on the way."

"Yeah, okay, let's-do that." Soul looks nervous and she _gets it_ because she is too, but they have jobs to do, people to help. So they go.

The fact that they're about to attempt to fight off an incursion doesn't stop Maka from ogling his rear as he climbs back into the conduit. Hell, all the more reason if they're about to put their lives on the line. She'd like to touch it, and if that kiss was anything to go by, she might even get the chance sometime soon. She hopes she does.

Not long after, they are dropping through a conduit access point again, this time into a small storage room. It's lined with weapons, hand phasers along with the larger, more powerful rifles, stun grenades, and even a few hand to hand weapons. Maka takes a hand phaser, holstering a second, and straps a rifle over her shoulder, gathering several stun grenades and a few pairs of plasma cuffs for good measure. She finishes with a pair of plasma knives, _just in case,_ before turning to Soul. He's got a phaser in hand along with a rifle, and a plasma sword is on his belt. She eyes that one skeptically.

" _What?_ My parents had me in fencing lessons most of my childhood, I can use it. _You'd_ still kick my ass, but hey." A roguish grin spreads across is his face as he adds, "And anyway, _you're_ with me. You're the ass kicker. I'm just the eye-candy."

Her laugh is only partially because it's true - Soul is nothing special in a fight - and partially because she's trying to fight down the nervous twinge mounting in her innards. Maka's never been in real combat, not like this, not when they could really die, and she can't help her fear. What if she can't protect them, can't protect _Soul_?

Her laughter dies on her lips as she moves to the door, squaring her shoulders. "Ready?"

"No," he quips, voice flat, "but that's never stopped you before."

"Let's go," she says, and the smile they exchange is fond and full of promise. They could die and they both know it, but they also have something new to live for: each other.

It isn't much of a fight.

As they roam the halls, they mostly find people who belong there. They have to stop to reassure and answer questions more than once, but there's no sign of invaders. A few of those they speak with have seen them, though, roaming in pairs or small groups.

Together, they continue to make their way to the bridge. Everyone they've encountered is safe so far, though there are rumors of injured. With the com system down again, the bridge can't put out an all call, so getting there is the only way to find out what's going on.

They finally encounter their first hostiles not long after. Maka hears loud laughter-so out of place-around a corner, and pulls Soul to a stop to listen.

"Did you see their faces, Mr. Noah? Priceless. _Priceless_."

"I've told you it's _Lieutenant_ Noah, and yes, I saw their faces, and they saw _you._ Systems are back up. We've _lost,_ fool."

The voices aren't familiar, Maka doesn't know them, though the name Lieutenant Noah she recognizes. _The Chief Science Officer._ She never would have suspected this went so high. But maybe-maybe she's assuming too much. She needs more. Soul grabs her hand, face grim as he squeezes, then puts a finger to his lips. He must agree, must also want to hear more.

"But I thought-" the first voice says in a high pitched whine. "I mean, they should be retrieving us, right? We were _promised_."

"The promises of the spider queen mean nothing, Crewman Gopher, absolutely nothing. How long will it take them to get the com back up?"

"I-I don't know-"

"Then we best hurry to a shuttlecraft because we are running out of time."

Maka has heard enough. It _is_ an inside job. Glancing to Soul with a finger to her lips, she waits for his nod before pressing the timer of a stun grenade. She holds it- _3, 2, 1_ -then pops out to throw it towards the traitors, jumping back to avoid the blast.

When she moves back out, they're on the ground, out cold, just as they should be.

"Help me cuff them, will you?" She turns to Soul, holding out a pair of plasma cuffs.

"Er, yeah, of course." He looks dazed. "I just-can't believe it," he adds as he bends down to cuff the shorter one. Maka has seen the man around in the past few days, knows he's an enlisted com tech. It only reinforces what she's just overheard, confirms he must be responsible for that particular sabotage.

Crouching down herself, she feels sick as she cuffs the Chief Science Officer. Treason. It's _treason_ , aboard the new flagship, and it's _Arachnophobia._

 _They have to get to the bridge._

With the traitors in plasma cuffs, she grabs Soul's hand and pulls, running, and five minutes and a turbolift ride later, they're there, breathless and hoping it's command they see and not invaders when the lift doors open in response to Maka's clearance as a bridge officer. Hell, hoping there aren't more traitors in their midst.

The first person she spots is her papa, flaming mop of red unmistakable, who shrieks her name. Before he can run and scoop her up, she growls, "Stop," and for once, by some minor miracle, he listens and keeps his place, relief and fondness writ large on his face.

She gets it. Maka is glad he's okay, too.

Her papa is standing next to Admiral Mortimer, recognizable for his dark hair streaked white with age, so she walks that way and stops short before announcing herself.

"Admiral Mortimer, Sir. Ensign Albarn, Junior Tactical Officer. I have a report."

"Ah, Miss Albarn! It's been too long!" he greets cheerfully, as if they were at tea and not on red alert, their ship compromised. Maka has become familiar with him, having met him many times as a friend of Kid at the Academy, so she tries to remind herself that his style is to put people at ease so she doesn't scream. She breathes a sigh of relief as he adds, voice more serious, "Please proceed."

"Yes, Admiral," she says smartly. "Ensign Evans and I were able to get to the core system through the conduits and neutralize the threat. It was Arachnophobia, Sir. A viral attack."

"Hmmm," the Admiral offers unhelpfully. "Yes, we had hoped to find you, Ensign Evans," he adds as he turns his eyes to Soul. "Lieutenant Commander Azusa was hoping you could get to the core through the conduits, but our efforts proved unsuccessful. I'm glad you two were able to act on your own. Resourceful, just like your mother, Maka, I might have known!" His voice is so cheerful by the end of his little speech it's practically a sing song.

"There's more," Maka says into his pause, because he needs to know about the traitors.

"Oh?" Admiral Mortimer's head tilts thoughtfully.

"On our way here, we came across-traitors, sir. Crewman Gopher and Lieutenant Noah are on Deck 54B, stunned and in plasma cuffs. We came across them talking about having disabled the com and taking a pod to escape, so I-made the call to incapacitate them, Admiral."

"I-see." He taps his chin. "That _is_ troubling. Well, I'll make sure they're picked up and brought to holding until we can sort this out. Mr. Barrett?" He looks to the Chief of Security, who nods and leaves through the lift. "Until then, you two should stay here until the com is back up. You've had quite the excursion!"

"Yes-sir," Maka says, and if her voice is hesitant, if she exchanges an odd look with Soul, well, she has never really quite understood Kid's dad.

"Now, Captain Albarn, perhaps you could go check on the status of the com?"

Maka can tell her father's plan had been to tackle her when his face falls. "Yes, sir," he sighs out and makes his way to the lift, casting a doleful glance her way when the doors shut behind him.

For her part, she tries to find an out-of-the-way corner of the large bridge but is mercifully commandeered by Lieutenant Commander Azusa, who asks for a more detailed status report Maka is all too happy to give, Soul in tow.

Ten minutes later, barely finished offering Azusa the details, the com is back up. The Admiral calls them over again with a wide smile.

"Ensigns Ford and Rung corroborate your involvement in repairing the core," he announces. "Good work! I see commendations in your future, medal of valor, I'll be making the recommendation as soon as this all settles. And don't be surprised if a rank change is also forthcoming," he adds with a wink of one oddly golden eye. "Well, then, off with you! Your evening duties have been reassigned-I'll expect you both in my ready room at oh eight hundred tomorrow for an extensive debriefing, so get some rest, you've earned it!"

Knowing a dismissal when she hears one, Maka tugs a stunned looking Soul to the turbolift, squeezing his hand as the doors shut behind them.

"Deck 42," she says, and the lift begins to move.

She's surprised when Soul cuts in with, "full stop."

 _"_ _What?"_ She moves to face him; it's her turn to be stunned. He takes her other hand, and the look in his red, red eyes-she could melt.

"It's just-I wanted to talk to you. Because-you kissed me." His face is red, but the set of his mouth is determined.

"I kissed you," she echoes.

"And I think I need to know what that means."

Moving closer, eyes still on his, Maka swallows. She'd kissed him because she's wanted to kiss him for a long time now, and he'd kissed her back, but she doesn't have words. Her smile is one of nervous anticipation as she leans in further, breath mingling, foreheads close, as he leans down to keep her gaze and closes the gap between them.

This kiss is slower, more planned, more methodical. Her eyes close as she tries to take in the feel of it, his lips moving against hers, soft and warm, his hands at her waist drawing her closer as before. Her hands stay on his shoulders, and it's nice, it's so nice.

And then Maka feels his tongue and her brain short circuits, her hands flying to tangle in his hair for the second time that day as she slides her own tongue deliciously against his.

This is kissing. This is _kissing._

She's tried it before a few times in her high school days just to see and had never been impressed, but this is different because it's _Soul_.

Kissing Soul is everything. But it's also too much, she can't _breathe_ , so she pulls back and she's smiling and he's smiling and she says, "Does that help?"

His smile widens. "I think? Maybe? I dunno. Might have to try some more. I'm pretty thick headed."

They do. Again, and then again. Probably, someone is getting pretty annoyed waiting for the lift.

They break apart and Maka breathes out, "We should start the lift before they send a rescue squad."

"Yeaaaaah," he says, face reddening again. "Probably should. But. Uh. I still think we should practice that more. Just so we're clear."

"We're a good team," Maka agrees. "We should definitely-keep practicing. Maybe make our partnership more official. If-if you'd like."

Soul pulls her closer, eyes searching. "I'd like." His gaze is intense. "Fuck, would I like."

"My quarters, then?" Her stomach is fluttering, her pulse is racing, she's _burning_.

"Resume," he commands the lift as he nods.

As the lift moves and the doors finally open, they leave hand in hand, ready to embark on yet another new leg of their life. Together.


End file.
